Chapter 20: Ezra - Entities to Lovers

There is no cold shower quite like an AAA phone tree.

Or a ride in a tow truck that smells vaguely of beef sticks. Or the news that the main mechanic is at a birthday party and therefore won’t be able to look at the car until morning. Or the dancing lobster in the lobby of the Swell & Shell hotel.

“Oh,” Rory mutters. “Oh…no.”

I don’t know what I expect from a town called Harv’s Landing, which seems like the kind of place where the mayor would be a dog. There are approximately three businesses on the main strip off the water: the mechanic, a hotel, and a bar that boasts Two-Dollar Tuesdays, but no information on what exactly costs two dollars. We won’t learn anyway, considering it’s the weekend.

“Yeah…” I trail off, glancing over at her.

Fuck, it’s hard to even look at Rory and not think of that goddamn kiss. I spent the entire ride to the garage, and the walk to the hotel in the freezing rain, thinking about the shape of Rory’s body pressed to me, the shocked little gasp she let out when I kissed her, and how there was a split second of hesitation before she was desperately kissing me, too. Her lips are still kiss-swollen, her lipstick probably rubbed off somewhere on my face.

Kissing Rory was revolutionary.

“There’s not a guy in here, is there?” Rory whispers, eyeing the lobster with suspicion. We rang the front desk bell a minute or two ago and someone yelled they would be right out.

The Swell & Shell looks like every coastal inn I’ve stayed at in New England, but with the kitsch-meter cranked up to the max. The decor is egregiously nautical, everything is made of reclaimed driftwood, and instead of calming lobby music, they’re playing an ambient soundtrack of ocean waves and seagull caws. It does, however, look well taken care of. And there’s vacancy…

We look like we’ve crawled out of the sea ourselves, so we fit right in. Our clothes are still soaked and frigid, and no matter how hot that kiss might have gotten me, my cold, wet jeans have come for me anyway and I desperately want to change into anything else.

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s animatronic. Is that better or worse?”

“Better,” she says. “I recognize this is not going to be a universal sentiment…”

“Oh boy,” I tease. “This should be good.”

“I can’t with, like…people in mascot costumes. I can’t be around them.”

“Why?” I laugh. “Because they’re creepy? This really is something, considering how much taxidermy is in the shop.”

“No. There’s something so fundamentally sad about it. It puts me in a bad place. Mentally,” she mumbles into her chest, clearly embarrassed by this. I’m envisioning Rory running from the Bubba Gump Shrimp in Times Square because it makes her too sad. Fuck, that’s cute. And a little tragic.

“Okay,” I agree. “Mascots bad. Animatronics good.”

“Oh,” she argues, “I did not say that.”

She giggles, her cheeks instantly go pink, and her smile grows coy. I’m not sure what to do next. I kissed her. I told her I thought she was wonderful and special. I told her I liked her, and when Lettie dropped the soulmate bomb, I was happy about it. I have no idea what came over me, but something is so much lighter in my body now, and I don’t regret any of it.

“Do you think he has a name?” I joke, and right as I do, a boy in his late teens pops out from the office and waves at us. He’s scrawny, with a face full of freckles, and his hairdo is a step up from a bowl cut. He’s wearing a coastal-blue polo shirt with a little lobster printed on the chest.

“That’s Harvey!” the concierge says.

“Harvey…” I repeat. Not really a lobster name, but okay.

“You can call him Harv for short. He’s our town mascot,” he declares proudly. “Everything in Harv’s Landing is all about him. Go-o-o, Harvey! You two looking for a room for the night? We’re the best establishment in miles.”

I am certain the Swell & Shell is the only sleeping establishment for miles, but at the very least, I know we’ll have a roof over our heads, a bed, and a meal soon.

“Great. You have rooms available?”

Lance—his name tag reads—types away at a computer older than him and hums at it. “Sure do…Look at that! You two are our ten-thousandth customers.”

“And?”

“That means your room is free for the night.”

I…what the fuck. This is like the incident at the bar all over again. A sudden twist of fate.

“You’re kidding,” Rory says doubtfully.

“I’m not!” Lance announces. “We knew it’d happen any day now. Lucky you guys.”

“Yeah,” I agree. Strangely lucky. We drove up here with no issues, broke down when we tried to leave, and now have the room comped when we decide to stay over? It’s like we were guided here. It’s like Temperance wants us to stay.

Together.

“You also get twenty percent off at the Galley, our local watering hole. You look like a nice couple there, so I guess you won’t mind sharing a queen bed, huh?”

Aaaand that’s where the luck runs out. Rory and I have been occupying the same space for days now, but we’ve been well apart when we sleep. I’m on the couch and Rory’s on the bed. It was bad enough then, but now I know what it’s like to touch and taste her. Even now, I’m fighting the urge to loop my pinky with hers or push the hair out of her face.

Of course there’s only one bed. Why would I ever think there’d be two? There’s never two.

“If that’s all you have…” Rory says hesitantly.

“It is.” Lance is not fucking around.

“All right, then.”

Lance manifests two room keys, shaped like—of course—lobsters, and writes our room number on the back.

“Lance,” I say, “do you guys have a place to buy clothes around here?”

He nods vigorously. “Sure do. The Trading Post by the water is closed for the day, but our gift shop has plenty of clothes.”

“Great. Laundry, by chance?” Rory asks.

Another nod. “Yep. Just takes quarters.”

“Awesome,” I confirm and turn to Rory. “We should get out of these clothes.”

“Yeah, you’re going to catch your death if you don’t change,” Lance interrupts.

“Soothing, thank you,” I reply.

Lance points us to the right, where there’s a big driftwood sign reading Harvey’s Hut, full of knickknacks and tchotchkes for sale. As we enter, I spot several racks of clothes, so we’re in luck. What is less fortunate, however, is how many lobsters there are.

Harvey upon Harvey. He’s on everything. The hoodies, the pajama pants, the mugs. Even a pair of underwear hanging on a line.

“Well,” I sigh. “It looks like we’re going to be donning some lobsters until the clothes dry.”

Rory picks a hoodie from the rack and shows it to me. It’s heather gray with a large lobster on the front and the text “Pinch Me, I Dare You” on it. “What do you think?”

“Seems like an invitation to be pinched.”

“Would you?” she smirks.

“No,” I tell her, collecting a pair of surprisingly lobster-free sweatpants from the rack. “If I were going to touch you, it’d be a lot more enjoyable than a pinch.”

Rory drops the hanger she’s holding and it clatters on the ground, making the woman at the register grumble.

“Uh, sorry,” Rory says.

“I take you by surprise or something?”

“You always do.” She gives me a shy, nervous smile and clears her throat. “I’m, uh…cold. Let’s get some fresh clothes and hit that laundry room.”

I collect a hoodie to add to the sweatpants, while Rory nabs some pajama bottoms, socks, and a long-sleeved shirt. We check out and hunt down the laundry room, which happens to be a tiny, private room near the business center.

“Save me, dry socks, save me,” Rory pleads, slipping off her boots. Her current socks hit the ground with a sad, wet plop, and she immediately rips the tag off the fresh crew socks adorned with lobsters. I haven’t thought this through, clearly, because we’re going to have to undress in front of one another.

“I…um…” She toys with the button on her jeans. I wish she wouldn’t do things like that. It’s taking everything in me to not beg to do it myself. I have no idea how I’m supposed to remain levelheaded around her now.

Something clicked into place when Lettie told me Rory was meant to be my other half and locked in once I kissed her. I’ve wandered through relationships, hoping one would feel right to me, like it was destined. I’d find a love that would stand the test of time. But nothing’s come close to the simmering want I’ve felt for Rory since we met, all leading toward this explosion and now an out-of-control burn.

I want to be good for her. I want to be everything she needs.

“What?” I nag. “Feeling shy?”

I reach for the bottom of my sweater and tug it over my head, tossing it into the open dryer beside me. When I glance back at Rory, she swallows hard, regarding each detail of my bare chest and the tattoos on my skin. I’ve caught her looking over the past few days, like she’s curious what they all are. I want to give her a chance to explore. However, removing my shirt has raised the stakes, and she quickly does the same because she’ll never let me win.

Even in warmer months, Rory’s style remains the same—flowing tops, loose skirts, witchy dresses. I only get hints of her curves and figure through her clothes, but this is the full picture. Maybe it’s for the best…I can barely handle this.

Rory’s hourglass figure is devastating to me personally. It reminds me of an ancient marble statue, something that’s survived millennia and is meant to be studied for how stunning it is. Wide hips, excellently shaped breasts, beautiful smooth skin, with a few freckles at the top of her chest, drawing my eyes to her cleavage.

“You got a problem, Professor?” she remarks, tossing her shirt into the dryer.

The cold weather makes her nipples tighten and rise through her pale purple bra. I have so many problems. And all of them involve having to take my pants off and put on sweatpants, which also will leave me vulnerable.

“No,” I lie through my teeth, fumbling to unbutton my jeans. Finally, the button comes loose and I manage to get the damp jeans off my legs. God, it feels so good to be free of the wet denim.

She pulls her long-sleeved shirt on and shivers as she unzips her jeans. We toss our pants in the dryer together and I slide the sweatpants up my legs. I hunt through my pockets for coins, but I’ve got none.

“Do you have quarters?” I ask.

“Mr. Coin Collector doesn’t have any?” she mocks.

“I wouldn’t put those in the machine! They’re special.”

Rory nods at a stack of quarters on one of the shelves nearby. “I think Temperance has us covered.”

Damn. She really does…Rory puts the coins in and runs the dryer.

A locked door, the rumble of loud machinery—god, I could get so many devastating sounds out of her in a place like this.

She pauses, eyeing the tattoos on my chest. I know I should put a shirt back on, but I can’t say I’m cold when she’s looking at me like this, or when her fingertips begin outlining the broken cathedral window inked over my heart. The hairs on my arms stand up as she traces the arch.

“You kissed me,” she says.

“I did.”

“Did you mean it?” she asks. The look in her eyes tells me she expects me to break her heart, like everyone else has. That me letting her down would be so much worse than anyone else.

“Of course.”

Rory sucks in a breath like my response stole it from her. “And what Lettie said?”

“I think we have control over that,” I tell her. Rory inches closer to me. Her knee knocks with mine. Her bare legs, warm shirt, and cozy socks are almost too adorable to bear. “We get to be whatever we want to be to each other.”

She ponders it. “And what would that be? If it were up to you?”

I draw a hand to her hip. She shivers at my touch at first, but settles as I glide down the side of her thigh. She lets me hoist her onto the washing machine. Now it’s her turn to straddle me until I want to scream. I grip her thighs and slide right up to her. Her expression is hesitant and hungry, like touching me is still some forbidden thing she shouldn’t want, but seconds later, she wraps her arms around my shoulders.

Rory smells like fresh rain and clean clothing, but there’s still hints of her earthy perfume on her skin. I didn’t think there was a universe where I knew what it was like to be close to her like this, but I’m glad the fates aligned to get us here.

Be afraid. Temperance’s words ring in my head. Fuck, I am so terrified of ruining this I almost don’t want to take the risk.

“If it were up to me,” I tell her, “I’d stop tormenting myself by pretending I don’t want you.”

Her eyes spark with awe, for only a split second, before she turns devilish again and smiles. “You think you’d be tormented less by being with me?”

“In some ways,” I laugh. “In other ways…maybe not.”

“You’re in trouble, then.”

She pauses a second, caressing the sides of my face like she isn’t sure of the next steps either. Seeing where this goes might scare the hell out of both of us, but I want to try and be brave. For her, it’ll be so worth it.

Rory finally leans forward and coaxes my lips to meet hers. She kisses me deadly slow, and it reminds me of how she channeled Temperance our first night together. She feels the entire room and energy before doing anything else, cautious, but measured. Her legs tighten around my waist as she dives deeper into the kiss, and I slide my hands beneath her ass. Rory parts my lips with her tongue and tugs at my hair.

She’s right.

I’m in so much fucking trouble.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispers between kisses.

I nod.

“I’ve wanted you to kiss me since the day we met.”

“Yeah?” I say between kisses. God, I don’t want to stop.

“I was mad about it for a long time.”

“And now?”

She pushes me away, her thumb tracing the shape of my lips. “I’m just mad I didn’t let you sooner.”

“What’d I tell you? I’m a proper gentleman.”

“You told me Royce was a proper gentleman. You, on the other hand…” Her brows rise in temptation. She has no idea how badly I want to take advantage of the loud, private space for all kinds of ungentlemanlike activities.

“Can I prove it to you?” I ask, coiling one of her curls around my finger. I let it bounce back and a blush also springs to her cheeks. “Let me take you on a date. That place we get the discount at. Tonight.”

“Oh, you just want to go there because you think I’m a cheap date.”

I shake my head and laugh. “No, I genuinely do not know if there are any other dining establishments in town.”

Rory ponders it. “You think there’s a chance they serve lobster?”